Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1461 - 1022: He Wants to Polish It

Chapter 1461: Chapter 1022: He Wants to Polish It

Anthony never thought he would end up trapped here. His Lord was omnipotent—this was his unwavering belief in Ange.

Even if Ange couldn’t physically take his body away from here, he would at least ensure his soul’s safe passage.

After all, when Lord Nage spoke on behalf of the divine translation—not cut off or interrupted—Ange hadn’t denied it. No reaction meant tacit agreement. Ange must have a way to get him out of here.

But even taking the worst-case scenario, even if his soul and body were both destroyed, all that would be lost was a mere projection. Confident in this reasoning, Anthony decided to methodically try every exit strategy, from the simplest to the most challenging.

The simplest method was the Teleportation Array. Failure. Next was traversing the grid-like pattern deciphered from Negris’ formula—success! But he hadn’t expected there to be guards waiting here.

The moment Samus threw out the Demon Spirit Longsword, Anthony knew he couldn’t proceed from easy to hard anymore. Skipping over the simpler methods, he immediately cried out internally, "Lord, help me."

Ange’s voice echoed in his consciousness: "The Teleportation Scroll."

Without hesitation, Anthony ripped open the Teleportation Scroll. While he knew using the scroll here might shred him into seventeen or eighteen pieces, his trust in Ange remained absolute.

The Demon Spirit Longsword shot toward him like a streak of lightning. Yet in the next instant, it froze in mid-air right in front of Anthony, inching forward at a painfully slow pace—space solidification.

This was a weaker version of Frozen Space. It couldn’t fully lock down space but could temporarily stabilize fractured space. Wasn’t the unstable space the reason teleportation wasn’t working? Now that space was stable, teleportation should work, right?

A blinding flash of light burst forth, and Anthony and the Demon Spirit Longsword vanished together.

On the other end of the teleportation, the spatial lag dissipated. The Longsword trembled violently, attempting with all its might to thrust forward. Yet, the moment it moved, a massive, scale-covered hand grabbed its hilt firmly.

The effort required for spatial lag was considerable, especially when it involved remotely projecting power. Ange had to transform into the Dragon God to accomplish it.

"Seriously? You ran, but on your way out, you decided to snag someone’s sword too," Negris couldn’t help but comment.

"Almost got cleaved, so I needed some compensation. This is a Demon Spirit Longsword; its sentience is particularly strong," Anthony replied.

Clang! Just as Anthony mentioned its strong sentience, the sword began to tremble violently. Its blade rattled with a harsh metallic clang, as though trying to break free from Ange’s grip.

In that moment, a powerful mental force surged out of the sword, aiming directly at Ange’s soul.

However, after the psychic assault, the blade’s sentience radiated confusion—it was puzzled because Ange showed no reaction at all.

Letting go of the sword? Or being psychically overwhelmed? Those were typical outcomes. But... no reaction? That was highly unusual.

What was he, dead? Could he at least respond?

In truth, the Demon Spirit Longsword’s consciousness was indeed very powerful, comparable to the Mourning Soul. Yet it had chosen the least movable target imaginable. Ange didn’t flinch, stomping the sword against the ground and giving it a hard tug.

The blade, pressed against the ground, scraped against it with a grating "screech-screech" sound, eerie enough to make one’s scalp tingle.

After dragging the blade halfway out, Ange shoved it forward once again. Back and forth, the scraping sound grew unbearable, forcing the Demon Spirit Longsword to let out a shrill cry: "Dull! Dull! Stop scraping me! What are you doing?!"

"Huh? You can talk?" Negris blinked in surprise. He had been wondering what Ange was up to, but before he could ask, the answer revealed itself. It appeared the sentient sword could indeed speak—it had been feigning silence with that earlier "clang-clang-clang" act.

"Of course, I can talk! I am the indomitable spirit of the Demon Sword! How could I not talk? My intellect surpasses yours, you stupid dragon!" the sword snapped frantically.

Negris sneered, "Indomitable? You can’t even cut through the Goddess of Dawn."

"I... That was the Crystal Barrier! Not being able to cut through it is perfectly normal! You stupid dragon, you stand still and let me try cutting you instead!" the Demon Spirit roared in fury.

Negris, chuckling, pointed at Anthony with his tiny claw, "You can’t cut through the Goddess of Dawn. You won’t cut him either."

"I... I... I..." The blade stammered over and over but failed to come up with anything coherent. There weren’t many things it couldn’t cut—one was the Wall of Dawn, and the other was anything involving space manipulation. Encountering both at once clearly meant the Goddess of Bad Luck had cursed it today.

Seeing the sword at a loss for words, Negris continued to taunt mercilessly, "Do you even know how to calculate the infinite entrapment sequences? I do. You’re dumber than me."

"You..." The sword’s insult was promptly flipped on its head, leaving it unbearably frustrated.

Negris went on, "You’re afraid of getting dull, right? Well, blades hate sand the most. I’ll just go grab a sack of sand and repeatedly stab you into it—thousands upon thousands of times..."

"Ahhh! Damn you, Yellow Dragon! I’ll slice you to bits!!" The Demon Spirit Longsword howled in sheer madness, its entire blade shaking violently. The trembling tip tore through the air, then the fabric of space itself, leaving streaks of spatial fissures in its wake.

Ange tilted his head and casually pulled out a piece of Black Crystal, tossing it onto the blade’s tip. *Clang!* The Black Crystal shattered into seven or eight fragments right then and there.

"Hissss—" Both Anthony and Negris gasped in unison.

Since the blade hadn’t been able to cut the light wall or Anthony thanks to Ange’s direct intervention, its actual destructive power had gone unobserved. To them, it had just seemed like a short-tempered, tantrum-throwing sword.

But the shattering of the Black Crystal now revealed the sword’s sheer, terrifying power. Even if it didn’t contain Chaotic Power, the fact that an object as tough as Black Crystal was reduced to shreds? Remarkable.

Everyone was awestruck by the sword’s might. Ange, however, cheerfully kept tossing Black Crystals onto its tip, one after another, filling the area with fingertip-sized shards.

Black Crystal was notoriously hard to process. Apart from coating objects with it, Ange had found few ways to alter its size.

Most Black Crystals were fist-sized and not particularly practical, requiring a ridiculous infusion of chaotic energy to transform them into Chaos Black Crystals.

But now? With them reduced to fingertip-sized shards, their applications multiplied exponentially.

After grinding through a dozen pieces, the Demon Spirit Longsword abruptly stopped. A furious yet feeble wave of resentment emanated from the blade: "I’m not a tool..."

The sword spirit had been utterly crushed. Its resentment was palpable, yet it lacked the strength to fight back.

The tip no longer quivered, no longer tore at space, no longer shredded Black Crystals. Any crystal tossed onto it merely bounced away harmlessly.

Ange gave the hilt a vigorous shake, causing the blade to wobble. But it had made up its mind—even if they plunged it into a sack of sand, it would remain unmoving.

After pondering for a moment, Ange took out a massive barrel of Black Crystals and started shaking the sword vigorously. His shaking grew faster and faster, scales reappearing on his body as he activated time acceleration.

Ange’s time acceleration only applied to himself, allowing him to shake the hilt at several times the normal speed. This created the exact vibration frequency needed to trigger the Longsword’s cutting ability, once again tearing space apart with its tip.

A surge of overwhelming terror engulfed the sword spirit. "You... You’re not planning to plunge me into that barrel of Black Crystals, are you?! We can talk this out! I’ll cooperate! One crystal at a time! I’ll do whatever you want—I surrender! I surrender!"

Shoving a rapidly oscillating metallic blade into a solid crystal barrel effectively turned it into an industrial polishing machine. That wasn’t just dulling the blade—it was outright sanding it smooth!